


Partners

by winterwonderland



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, depictions of violence, more bad jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwonderland/pseuds/winterwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partnership isn’t always smooth sailing. Especially in a line of work that includes firebombed cars, bruised ribs and the occasional warehouse fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: swearing (duh), depictions of violence, and some smooching. Takes place in the same universe as On the Job but is self-contained.
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a safe and happy 2016 :)
> 
> ETA: just to be clear, the events of this story take place before the events of On the Job

 

“Look, I already told you I’m not going to any hospital. Just patch me up, okay? And can someone find me that damn phone already.”

Agron whirled around at the familiar voice, trying to see through the throng of people and emergency vehicles. And then he caught sight of him. Just fifteen feet away, Nasir was sitting in the back of an ambulance, cursing at a stressed EMT who was struggling to clean the nasty looking cut on his right arm.

Agron glued his feet to the asphalt, fighting the urge to just run to the other man and grab him and hold him and never let go. He needed a moment for his hands to stop shaking, for his heart to stop hammering inside his chest and beat normally again.

“No, I don’t need any drugs. No! I just told you, didn't I?”

“And I’m just trying to do my job here, sir. If you’d just work with me--”

“Well I’m not gonna work with you as long as you keep asking me stupid questions. Now, can someone please just get me that phone?”

Relief flooded Agron’s system like a sedative or a double vodka on an empty stomach, and he had to do his very best to fight the stupid grin that threatened to split his face as he finally started walking towards the car.

“Good to see you’re being your charming self as always, Hasan.”

Nasir looked over and up, and once he finally located Agron, his hand went to his head, brushing away hair clinging to his forehead. “You weren’t waiting around at the airport for too long, were you? I was just trying to get someone to find me a cell so I could—”

“Don’t worry about it. I took a cab home.” Agron crouched down until they were eye to eye. There was a nasty scrape on the man’s forehead, still seeping blood. “Hiya, partner.”

“Hi.” Nasir blew out a breath and then finally smiled back at him. “So how was—hey, watch it!” He jerked, but wasn’t quick enough to stop the needle from shooting into his arm. “What was that? What’d you give me?”

“Just a local anesthetic, sir.” The EMT sighed, looking half exasperated, half defeated. “We already went through this once. You need something to block the pain or you'll risk going into shock. And I told you I need to—”

“And I told you, I don’t want any drugs. Jesus! Agron, tell him.”

“He’s just a bit of a lightweight when it comes to narcotics, that’s all,” Agron explained and then turned back to Nasir. “Look, what’s done is done. It’s okay. You’ll survive.” He grabbed Nasir’s chin and turned his face to his as the EMT went to work on his arm. “And now, answer me this: how many devoted partners do you see?”

“None,” Nasir answered with an eye-roll, “Just you, Evans. And I don’t have a concussion."

“Yes, you do,” the EMT corrected him, ignoring the sidelong glare he got in return. “Sir, please, I am a professional who—”

“Whatever. Just hurry the fuck up, okay?” Nasir was starting to shiver—part cold, part shock—but clearly didn’t notice. “And where the hell is O'Neal and Richards? They should be here by now. And I need to have a word with the second unit and—”

He stopped and ran his free hand over his face. “Shit, shit, shit... something's happening. I can feel it.” He tried to shake off the effects of the drugs by shaking his head, but it wasn’t working. “Just swear to me you won’t let me do anything stupid while I’m under. Fucking swear to me, Evans.”

“Stupid like what?” Agron sat beside him on the step of the ambulance.

“Like... I dunno, just... anything. You know how I get.” He stared dully at the medic who pushed a pair of tweezers into his open wound and picked out a piece of rubble. “And remember you’re not allowed to take me to the hospital. Do that and I’ll kick your ass tomorrow.”

Nasir was still shivering, so Agron grabbed the thermal blanket laying crumpled on the floor and tucked it over his shoulders. He watched the EMT take advantage of the distraction and fill another syringe with some clear liquid or another. Agron bit back a smile. Knowing his partner, Nasir would be high as a kite in less than two minutes.

“Oh! Look! There they are!” Nasir’s head snapped up, and he nearly ended up headbutting the EMT who had started to clean up the cut on his forehead. “Hey, Richards. O'Neal. Looking good, as always.”

“Hasan, are you all right?” Saxa Richards knelt down on the asphalt, her mouth a tight line. Clearly Nasir’s sudden jovial mood wasn't catching. “We heard everything through the radio. Jesus, you're not hurt, are you? How bad—”

“Oh, it was nothing. Just took a little nose dive on the asphalt after the explosion. Like ya do... Hey, O'Neal, how’s my ride doin’?”

The other man shook his head with a solemn expression. “Burnt to crisp.”

"Shit. I loved that car." He leaned heavily against Agron’s shoulder and sighed. “We’ve got to go car shopping now. And you know how much I hate shopping. Stupid-ass firebombs, am I right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Agron closed his eyes for a second and tried not to think too much about anything.

The EMT got to his feet with a groan. “Okay. I’ve done what I could, but those injuries need to be looked at. You need a chest x-ray and your wrist is probably sprained. It might even be broken—”

“Great. I'll get that looked at ASAP.” Nasir rolled his eyes.

“Please—”

“I'm not going to a hospital.”

The EMT sighed and thrust a clipboard at him. “Then sign this form.”

Nasir quickly scribbled his name at the bottom of the sheet with his left hand and handed it back. "There you go."

“Thank you. He’s all yours now, sir.”

“Right.” Agron cleared his throat. “Come on, Hasan, let’s go.” He said his goodbyes to the rest of the team, assured them that Nasir would be appropriately cared for and then started cajoling Nasir towards his car.

“Did you park close by? I don’t want you carrying me, okay? It’s fucking embarrassing. I can walk.”

“Of course you can,” Agron assured him and then quickly wrapped his arm tighter around the man’s waist when his legs nearly gave out on him.

“Mm... I like your aftershave. Are you taking me home?”

“Sure,” Agron muttered. Eventually, anyway.

They passed the remains of Nasir’s car on the way, giving Agron another case of shivers. Glued to his side, Nasir only pointed and stared.

“Damn. Imagine if I’d been inside when—”

“Well you weren’t," Agron interrupted curtly. “Now come on, my car’s down here.”

“So how was your trip, Sergeant Aftershave?”

“Clearly less eventful than what you’ve had going on here.”

Nasir snorted and then stumbled on his feet again. “It’s just the job, man. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. I know.” Agron opened the passenger side door and maneuvered Nasir inside the car. He leaned in to click on the seat belt, but when he went to straighten his back again, Nasir grabbed his face in his hands mid-way and gave him a lopsided smile.

“Glad to have you back, Evans.”

“Well I’m glad to be—”

The kiss was as sloppy as it was unexpected and it made Agron’s heart skip a good handful of beats, before he finally had the good sense to pull away.

“Uh, Nasir, maybe we shouldn’t...”

The eyes staring back at him were cloudy and unfocused and the smile had turned even wonkier than before. Agron forced himself to smile back as he carefully peeled Nasir’s hands from his face.

“Let’s just get you home now, yeah?”

Nasir nodded drowsily and Agron closed the door on him, making sure no fingers were in the way. Then he walked around the car to the driver’s side, took a deep breath, and kicked the tire hard enough that he felt his toes crack inside his shoe.

He took another breath and blew it out and then calmly opened the door and got in.

“Everything all right, Evans?”

“Uh-huh. Absolutely.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

“Yeah,” Agron breathed as he started the car and pulled away from the curb, “Everything’s coming up fucking roses.”

“Why would you want to fuck roses, though? That must hurt, right?”

“I didn't say... Look, don’t worry about it.” He patted Nasir’s knee. “Just relax now, okay?”

“Hey, that’s the wrong exit! Come on, you know I don’t live in Brookeside anymore.”

“I’m taking a shortcut.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

Silence fell and glancing over at Nasir, Agron watched the way the streetlights outlined the strong angles of his face. Nasir leaned back in his seat and his eyelids drooped and those thick lashes fanned out into two dark crescents against his skin. Fuck, even banged up and bruised the man was more gorgeous than any person had the right to be.

And then those eyes suddenly shot open again, startling him.

“Wait, no, it doesn’t make sense! You’ll have to drive around all of West Side this way. Evans, you better not be taking me to the hospital. You’re not, right?”

Sighing to himself, Agron peeled his eyes away and turned his attention back on the road ahead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, partner.”


	2. Chapter 2

8 months later...

 

Nasir caught the time on his watch and cursed under his breath. He quickly drank the rest of his coffee and then pulled out his wallet.

“Somewhere to be, Pipsqueak?”

“Fuck you, O'Neal.” He didn’t look up, just fished out a twenty dollar bill and threw it on the diner table as he got up.

“Better hurry, man,” Richards—the other asshole sitting across the booth from him—said with a smirk, “Don’t wanna keep the hubby waiting, now do you?”

“That wasn’t funny the first time.”

“It was for me.”

Nasir resisted the urge to flip her off. Behind the counter, Bessie was keeping an eye on him, and he didn’t want to risk a lifetime ban. No one got away with bad manners in here when Bessie was around. Not even Agron, and Bessie would let that man get away with murder. Probably literally.

So, instead, Nasir just gave his colleagues a quick reminder that since he was off the clock tonight and also technically still on medical leave from last week, all the leftover paperwork was now their responsibility. And then he left them with a smile and a wave, made record time through the city even in the afternoon traffic and was already standing in the arrivals hall five minutes before the plane was about to land.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to look casual and not suspicious as he idly checked his phone while simultaneously scanning the crowd and the steady stream of passengers that made it out from the baggage claim.

The doors slid open and another wave of people walked out. Overweight guys in tropical shirts. Business people with their suits and phones and laptops. Families with sleep deprived kids and way too much luggage. And then, finally, a familiar face—though one covered in stubble that was teetering on the edge of becoming a beard.

Agron was wearing his uniform—the off-duty type—of jeans and a T-shirt and cowboy boots, but this time, for some unfathomable reason, also a red and black plaid button down with its sleeves rolled up high enough to show the ink on his arms.

To put it in another way, he painted quite the picture even without the Army khakis.

Nasir smiled, gave him a quick wave.

Agron, too, broke into a smile and started towards him with his long, familiar stride, his duffel bag slung over his flannel-clad shoulder. Once he reached Nasir, the bag was dropped on the floor while Nasir was picked up off it—or he would have been, but then Agron paused mid-hug and let him go, taking a step back.

“What’s wrong?”

Nasir rolled his eyes. _Not this again._

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You winced,” Agron said, sounding like Nasir had just committed some great crime against humanity, “I could feel you wince.”

“Yeah, well try squeezing a little lighter next time. You’re supposed to be hugging me not crushing bones.” Nasir picked up the discarded bag from the floor and cocked his head towards the front doors. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Nasir ignored him and lead the way outside and towards the car park. “So what’s with the lumberjack look, man? Career change on the horizon?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Agron easily matched his step and then grabbed his bag back from Nasir’s hand. “Are you hurt? Why didn't Spartacus tell me? I’m your partner, I’m supposed to know about these things.”

Had it been anyone else, Nasir would have continued to argue the point, but he knew Agron and knew that the man would not let it go until he’d gotten his answer. They’d be at it for days if Agron felt like it.

“A job went a little south last week.”

“How south?”

“A few unwanted guests crashed the party,” Nasir explained, keeping his voice even as they navigated through the rows of cars, “O'Neal hadn’t checked the—”

“Fucking O'Neal. I’ll kill him.”

They reached Nasir’s truck and he grabbed his keys and went to open the front door. It was a vintage Bronco; it didn’t have a remote control system.

“You’re not gonna kill him, Agron.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

Agron huffed unimpressed, but got in the passenger seat without more fuss and even fastened his seat belt without needing to be prompted, which Nasir took as a good sign. He started the car and put the gear into drive, but before he got any further he felt Agron’s hand on his and glanced over.

“You’re sure you’re all right, though?”

Nasir sighed. “Yeah, man. I’m all right. Just a few cuts and bruises. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Agron let his hand go with a quick squeeze and then smiled. “And thanks for picking me up again.”

“No problem. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

They stayed silent for the rest of the drive, though not because of any tension, but because Agron was about three seconds away from falling asleep the whole journey.

“Jet-lagged, huh?”

“Yeah, man.” Agron half smiled, half yawned as he made his way up the front steps and finally found his keys and got his front door open. “Plus you know how much I fucking hate sleeping on planes.”

“I know.” For an army guy who traveled as much as he did, Agron really was surprisingly averse to sleeping in strange places. Nasir’s couch seemed to be the only exception to the rule.

Nasir closed the door behind him while Agron did his usual security check around the place. The house was a cozy but unassuming bungalow in a quiet suburb so the chances of a secret intruder were minimal, but Agron had his habits and Nasir knew better than to argue. God knew he had enough weird habits of his own.

“So... if that’s it I’ll probably get going again,” Nasir said once Agron finally reappeared from the kitchen, “You could probably do with some sleep and—”

“Take off your shirt.”

Nasir nearly swallowed his tongue. He had to pinch himself just to make sure Agron’s jet-lag wasn’t catching and he hadn’t just fallen asleep against the wall without realizing it. Because this was dangerously close to how most of his fantasies tended to start. Those wholly inappropriate fantasies about his partner that his brain had the habit of conjuring up even though it fucking knew better.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Agron stepped closer and Nasir gave a nervous laugh.

“The internet’s full of free porn, Agron. You really don’t need me to give you a show.”

“Whatever. Come on, you told me that wince was nothing. So prove it.”

Nasir eyed Agron carefully, wondering if he would be better off just taking the man out there and then before things got any more out of hand. And, sure, Agron had all that Delta Force training under his belt, whereas Nasir had never been more than a lowly first-year agent before he’d been recruited by Spartacus and gotten a spot on the security team at Meyer and Associates. But that said, his time being partners with Agron had rubbed off on him, so he pretty much knew every weak and blind spot the other man had. Nasir knew he could take Agron down if he needed to.

Well, on a good day he could have, but tonight he wasn’t feeling quite his best. So he just rolled his eyes and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re being silly,” he said, “It’s just some bruises and shit. Nothing serious.”

The sharp intake of breath from Agron when Nasir finally got his shirt open told him the other man didn’t quite see it that way. Nasir put on a smile.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Who the fuck was it?”

“Dietz.”

“I’ll fucking k—”

“One, they’re all in protective custody, so you couldn’t get to them even if you wanted to. And secondly... enough with this killing-for-me-business for tonight, okay? I can take care of myself.”

Agron’s skeptical gaze flicked over him and Nasir quickly started doing the shirt up again and gave him a scowl.

“What’s with you today, anyway? Were you stuck with an all-female flight attendant team the whole way or something? You’re acting like you have a pineapple shoved up your ass.”

But Agron wasn’t listening. He turned away towards the windows, hand raking his hair until the longer bits in the middle stood up like a rooster’s crest. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone. This shit always happens when I leave you alone. I come home and you have a leg in a cast or an arm in a sling or some bullshit like that. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be out there where there’s no phones and no way to contact anyone and know that you’re here running around getting shot and blown up and jumping down from windows and balconies with nothing but those two idiots to cover your six?”

Nasir could live with Agron’s rabid guard dog act most of the time. To be perfectly honest, sometimes he even got off on it a little, as borderline unhealthy as that might have been. It meant that Agron cared—maybe not as much or in the exact same way that Nasir cared, but at least he cared. Tonight, though, the act was quickly getting old. Nasir was tired and sore, the pain meds were making him itchy and the coconut pie from earlier wasn’t working for his blood sugar levels anymore. He’d heard enough.

“Fuck you.”

Agron’s head whipped around. “What?”

“I said, ‘fuck you,’” Nasir repeated. “Do I have to remind you that _you’re_ the one getting whisked away on a plane every few months and dropped behind enemy lines somewhere and left to fend for yourself? And yet somehow _I’m_ the one who’s in danger just by staying home and doing my job— _our_ job?”

He blew out a disgusted breath, trying his best to count to ten but continuing before he had made it to three. “So yeah, fuck you. At any given time you’re on a mission from Uncle Sam, I’m here imagining that there’s about a 75-percent-chance you’ve got at least three machine gun barrels and an IED pointed at your chest right at that very moment. But _you’re_ the one who’s supposed to be worried? Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?”

“That’s different.”

Nasir crossed his arms over his chest. “And how exactly is that different?”

“Because I’m me, and you’re... you.”

It felt like a punch in the face. Hell, Nasir had actually been punched in the face a few times before; this felt worse. They were best friends. They were _partners_. Or at least that's what Nasir had thought they were.

“Yeah, I’m me,” he said with a dry smile and then continued in a mocking voice, “Poor little Nasir who probably wouldn’t even know which way to point a gun if someone bigger and stronger and smarter wasn’t there to help him out.”

“Nasir, that’s not—”

“Fucking spare me, okay?” He ran a hand across his face and then took another step back when he saw Agron take a step closer. “I get we have different backgrounds, and I get you have years on me, but I still thought we were supposed to be partners on the job. Equals, you know?”

“We are!”

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“If you just let me explain—”

“Then explain,” Nasir said levelly, holding Agron’s stare, “Explain to me how it’s different when you’re in danger and when I’m in danger. Give me one good reason why you’re allowed to be so worried all of a sudden.”

Agron opened his mouth but not a sound came out. Finally his mouth closed again and he looked away, staring at the setting sun outside the windows, his shoulders rising and falling in time with his breaths. Clearly his bluff had been called. Part of Nasir felt vindicated, another part felt like he had been kicked in the gut all over again.

“You wanna know how I got these bruises?” he asked.“There were eight guys in the building that night. Four in the front, two in the back and two on the roof. They got to O'Neal, and Richards was still outside somewhere looking for a way in. Radio’s jammed. Backup’s miles away.” He spread his arms wide and gave the other man another empty smile. “And _this_ is what I walked away with. A few bruised ribs and a split lip. Not too bad for a helpless idiot, huh?”

“I never said you were—”

Nasir’s phone started buzzing in his pocket, cutting Agron off in mid-sentence. He quickly held his hand up to keep Agron from speaking as he fished the cell out and frowned at the caller ID.

“Yeah, Boss?” He listened to Spartacus, nodding to himself every now and then as he was getting briefed, even though he knew the other man on the phone wouldn’t be able to see him. “Well, I’m a little sore but I’m fine sitting in a car for a few hours if that’s what you need.” He listened to the last of the instructions and then ended the call with a “see you there.”

Agron was already moving, grabbing a jacket from the rack by the door and checking the magazine on his gun. “Where are we going?”

“ _We’re_ not going anywhere,” Nasir said, throwing him a look. “You’re not cleared for rota until next week. Plus, you’re so jet lagged you’d be falling asleep on your feet after the first five minutes. You’re not fit to work tonight.”

“And you are? Anything more than a brisk walk and those ribs will kill you. If anything, _you’re_ not fit to work tonight.”

“It’s just a glorified stake-out, I’ll be fine.”

Nasir couldn’t believe they were still having this discussion. He couldn’t believe he was still here trying to placate this asshole and had not just slammed the door in his face on the way out. He reached for the door handle and pushed it down when he felt Agron’s hand on his arm.

“Well if it’s just a stake-out, then there’s no reason why I couldn’t come with you. And we both know you need someone there to—”

“Go to hell, Evans.”

Nasir slammed the door shut behind him, hard enough that it made the windows rattle. He couldn’t have cared less.


	3. Chapter 3

The phone rang again as Agron searched for it among the pile of discarded clothes on the floor by the bed.

“Evans,” he croaked out as he finally managed to find and grab the cell and bring it to his ear.

“Sergeant Evans?” the young man on the other end asked amidst the sound of paper being shuffled in the background. “Sergeant... Agron Evans?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Oh, good. Please hold for Special Agent Jackson.”

Agron rolled his eyes at the name, and even though he knew the gesture was only for his own benefit, it was still oddly satisfying.

The line clicked and another voice came on, this one a little older and a little more seasoned than the first one had been. And a lot more familiar—unfortunately. “Hey, Agron.”

“Well, well, well,” Agron drawled, shaking himself awake, “Finally landed yourself that secretary, did you?” He checked the time on the alarm clock. One-thirteen a.m. That was an odd time for a chat—especially since the two of them were not in the habit of chatting, period. “So what’s so important that it couldn’t wait till morning? Missed me that much, Agent?”

The line went silent for the briefest of moments, just long enough for Jackson to draw in a sharp breath. “I guess you haven’t been watching TV tonight.”

“What? No. Why?” Agron sat up on the bed, not liking where this was going at all. “Derek, it’s the middle of the night and I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours—so no, I have no time for Housewives of Wherever the Hell right now.”

“Agron, just hang on a moment, please.” The other man clearly put his hand over the phone as he spoke to someone else on his end.

A cold sweat broke on Agron’s skin, his heart pounding beneath his rib cage like it was looking for a way out. For someone who was usually so irreverent and irritatingly cheerful, the good old agent was sounding strangely serious tonight. But even worse than that, he was calling Agron by his actual name instead of the slew of irritating nicknames he usually used.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

“What’s going on?” Agron asked as Jackson finally came back on the line. By this time, Agron was already standing in the middle of the living room floor, pulling on his jeans, the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Listen, whatever you do, just don’t turn on the news right now. Let me talk first. Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

Too late. Agron had already put on the local news station where...

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, sitting down heavily on the sofa, eyes fixed on the images flashing on the TV screen in front of him. “Okay, I’m looking at it now. Just tell me what the hell is going on.”

“We have just received confirmation that Meyer’s surveillance op on the Lewis building was compromised when an unidentified group of armed individuals stormed the scene at approximately 23 hours 30 minutes. It has been later confirmed that they were affiliates of Dietz—” Jackson sucked in a breath and then continued, sounding a little less like he was reading off a prompter and more like himself. “The going theory at the moment is that word of today's op got leaked somehow and Dietz used the knowledge to bait Meyer to the site. Apparently last week’s bust at the embassy didn’t sit well with him and he was looking for payback. Clearly the man’s a sore loser.”

“And what about the team?” _What about Nasir?_

“We don’t know all the details yet,” Jackson was saying grimly while Agron hit mute on the remote control, “We have evacuated the wharf and the neighboring buildings. So far, three members of your team are counted for. All alive. Three are still inside.”

“Who...?” Jesus, he couldn’t breathe.

“Meyer, O'Neal and...”

“Hasan?”

“Yes, Hasan.”

Agron sank down deeper into the cushions. Numb. Jackson was still talking and Agron tried to concentrate on that voice, tried to hear him over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“...Before we lost radio contact, Meyer reported that there were definitely casualties inside the building, but we don’t know how many and we don’t know who. It could have just been Dietz’s men, who knows.”

“Before you lost radio contact …?”

“I’m sorry, Agron—”

“Fuck sorry!”

He sprang back up on his feet but stopped and took a deep breath, feeling like he was about to lose it, and he damn well wasn’t going to lose it while on the phone with Nasir’s ex of all people. He lowered his voice, but it came out no less intense. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy. I need information. What the fuck is happening there right now? Eleven-thirty was two hours ago.”

“For now, all we have is speculation. And you know as well as I do that there’s no point in—”

“Then give me the speculation,” Agron said.

“Evans, you know I can’t just—”

“Are they dead?” Agron had to know. “Is Nasir... Is there evidence that they’re—”

“No,” Jackson said, but then added, “Nothing definite. What we think happened—and remember this is mostly guesswork at this point—is that after the first team got ambushed on site by Dietz, the backup got to the scene and inside the building without knowing they were walking into a trap. Then, allegedly, there was a big explosion, after which part of the warehouse collapsed and the south side of the building caught fire.”

“And?” Agron asked tightly.

“And nothing,” Jackson said. “We honestly don’t know what’s happening inside. The only facts we have are reports of gunshots and the fire that finally alerted the authorities to the scene.”

Agron could taste the bile rising in his throat. “So, best-case scenario is that they’re trapped in a burning building dodging bullets from some petty assholes with an axe to grind.”

Worst case was that Nasir was already dead—that he had been dead for hours.

“What’s happening now?”

“We’ve got a tac team in place,” Jackson said. “They’re going in as soon as they get the okay from the fire department. Look, I’m going to make some phone calls, see what more I can find out, okay?”

Agron shrugged on his windbreaker. He checked his shoulder holster and the one around his ankle. “You know that I’m going out there, right?”

There was a silence on the line. Then a deep sigh. “I know. But this is not one of your ops, Evans. You don’t have the authority to do anything once you get there, you understand me? So just follow protocol and let my team handle it.”

“Call me when there’s news,” Agron said and ended the call.


	4. Chapter 4

As the dust settled around them, Nasir pushed off the pieces of plaster and concrete that had fallen on him and quickly assessed his injuries. He could tell that his right knee was in pretty bad shape, but other than that he was fine. Surprisingly fine. It seemed impossible, so he checked himself again. He’d hit his head and his ears were ringing from the explosion, but other than that he was, miraculously, all in one piece. Though his ribs still hurt like a son of a bitch.

Looking around him in the semidarkness, under the flickering fluorescent lights, he saw their CO clambering up to his knees amid the rubble and started limping toward him. “Spartacus! Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m all right. For now.” He was wiping dust from his face as he got to his feet. “These assholes aren’t playing around.”

“No—”

Nasir heard a loud crack echo through the building, and someone yelled faraway, but the words were garbled and he couldn’t make them out. The sound of sirens started to bleed in from outside. He turned to see smoke filtering through the base of the door.

Fuck.

“We have to move—there’s a fire!”

“No. _No_! Get back! Get the hell back! Right now!”

Nasir spun around at the voice behind him.

The piece of shit who had led them all in this damned room in the first place was now aiming his gun at him, forcing Nasir back against the wall before turning his ire at Spartacus who was standing closer to the door. “Now you… Open it! Now!”

Spartacus could have gone for his own gun, but for whatever reason he didn't. Instead, after a quick and deliberate look in Nasir's direction, he did as he was told, walking to the door and twisting the door knob with both hands. It turned as if it were unlocked, but still didn’t open. He yanked it again, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Something is blocking it on the other side.” He took a step back and kicked the door. Still nothing. “Almost looks like we're bolted in. Now, you don't think they set you up, do you, Tommy?”

Nasir could tell by the look on the other man’s face that Spartacus had hit the mark.

“No, that can’t be...We’re brothers. They wouldn’t—” He shook the gun at Spartacus again. “Try again, asshole. You're not really trying.”

While Spartacus went to bodyslam the door again, Nasir took advantage of the distraction and was on the man with the gun in two quick strides. Simultaneously, he grabbed Tommy's arm while turning sideways so the trajectory would miss him if the gun fired. Then he quickly took the gun between his hands, trapped it from all sides, then snapped the gun up and back, intentionally breaking Tommy's trigger finger in the process.

The man gave a scream of pain and released the gun, and Nasir yanked it from his hand, moved back and rotated the weapon until it was aimed back at him.

“On the floor,” he ordered. “Slowly. Hands behind you.”

“What?” Tommy managed, clutching his throbbing hand, eyes wide like a child seeing a magic trick for the first time. “How the fuck did you—”

Nasir resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I said get down. Now. Trust me, next time I'm not gonna say please.”

Something in Nasir's stare must have convinced him. Tommy did as he was told.

All the noise in the room had woken up O'Neal who stirred on the floor and moaned, raising a hand to his head. Wincing in pain, he rolled to one side.

“Pipsqueak?” O'Neal’s eyes opened, barely, and he struggled to focus. And with his ears still ringing from the explosion, Nasir almost didn’t hear him. Still, the stupid nickname sent an adrenaline rush through his body that triggered a smile, despite their circumstances.

He made sure Tommy was taken care of and then walked over the rubble across the room to where his teammate was lying.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Nasir crouched down, wincing when the pain hit his knee. “I’m right here.”

“Spartacus…?”

“We’re all here.” Though whether that was good news or bad, Nasir wasn’t really sure.

They were trapped in a windowless room. The fire would soon raise the temperature to an unbearable level. Spartacus had jammed a couple of jackets under the door, but the air was quickly growing hazy with smoke and they were all coughing.

“I hope you realize that whoever did this knew you would be in this room when the bomb went off,” Spartacus said as he dragged Tommy to sit against a wall. “They used you to get us in here and don’t give a damn that you’ll never get out alive.”

“Jesus! Can y’all fucking stop saying shit like that! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hands on his ears, Tommy shook his head, slumping over his knees. “Those guys wouldn’t just... There must have been a mistake... They didn’t realize—”

“No windows. Bolted in. Admit it, Tommy, as far as they're concerned you're nothing but collateral damage at this point.”

The other man shook his head, eyes wide. “No, no, no...” And then, “Oh, god, we're all gonna die.”

“Well, I for one am not waiting around for that.” Spartacus ran for the door and tried his luck, kicking a foot into the wood. He yelled for help and pounded on the door again and again. Then, when nothing happened, he grabbed his gun.

He shot a few rounds into the wood around the doorknob and tried the door again. It moved, but not much.

“Damn it, Tommy. Your friends really don’t care for you much, do they?” he said. “Can’t understand why.”

“Yeah, you’re so damn cute and all,” O'Neal quipped as he tried to sit up, “That swastika really brings out your eyes.” Grimacing in pain, he turned to Nasir. “Help a brother out?”

Nasir hauled him up and helped him sit against the wall, low enough to keep away from the haze of smoke gathering up underneath the ceiling. He noticed the pain in the man's eyes; every move must have hurt, but he tried not to let it show.

Nasir, too, forced a smile and put on a brave front for his team. Their line of work was what it was, and Nasir had long since come to terms with the risk involved—even if his partner hadn't. But the thought that he would die here tonight—that he would die here tonight when his last words to Agron had been what they had been—was gnawing a bigger hole inside his gut than he could have imagined.

Groaning he got up from the floor. He was not fucking dying, not tonight. Not like this. And not without one hell of a fight.

  


* * * * *

  


Thick pillars of smoke billowed in the air and an intense red glow painted the night sky. Police and fire crews continued to arrive at the scene, with bystanders and news crews gathering at a distance. Helicopters hovered above, shooting out their streams of lights in the sea of shrieking sirens.

Agron pushed his way through crowds of people and lines of emergency vehicles. He’d abandoned his car a couple of blocks back, but it didn't take him long until he reached the edge of the crowd. Maybe it was the pure rage in his eyes that had people scurrying out of his way as he kept scanning the scene, trying to find anyone or anything here that he could recognize.

He saw blackened faces and shocked eyes, but he couldn't find the one he was looking for. He didn't let himself think or imagine what that might end up meaning.

Then he saw the familiar vintage Bronco parked at the curb. And his heart stopped along with his feet.

He’d never know how long he stood there, unable to breathe, his body rocking with shock. Then the damn broke and he started forward, picking up pace as he ran towards the fire with some wild notion of ripping the blazing building to pieces if that’s what it took to get to Nasir.

“I don’t care about your fucking rules, okay? My team's inside.” Agron struggled against two firemen who held him back once he’d reached the police line. “You have to let me go.”

“No one’s going inside, sir.” A third man stepped in front of him, someone in authority and dressed in a fire-department uniform. “You won’t be doing these people any good if you die trying to save them, Sergeant.”

Agron quit fighting the two men who had a hold of his arms and they released him. He put up his hands and took a step back. For Nasir’s sake, he couldn’t afford to lose it. He couldn’t afford to be dragged away in handcuffs. Not now.

He drew in a deep breath and slumped against the hood of Nasir’s car. The tactical team had set up a perimeter to work the scene; Agron could see the snipers poised and ready on the roof of the neighboring buildings, could see the agents getting suited and geared up. But nothing was happening.

The firefighters weren’t allowed in because of the active situation inside the building. The tactical team wasn’t going in because of the fire. They were in a stalemate and time was running out.

Agron waited until heads were turned and then quickly picked his way into the trunk of Nasir’s truck. He shook his head to himself as the lid easily popped open and he grabbed himself a crowbar and a pair of work gloves before quietly closing the trunk again; the locks on this car were a joke, but that would be a fight for another day.

The crowbar tucked under his jacket, he headed down the block and away from the action, keeping his step steady and his pace slow enough not to warrant any attention. Then he took a sharp turn, disappearing behind the next building before starting back towards the warehouse, running through the shadows by the river toward the blazing fire lighting the night sky.

He could only pray he wasn’t already too late.


	5. Chapter 5

The sudden silence in the room was eerie.

Ominous.

Then the building creaked and groaned around them, and Nasir swore. His lungs were burning and his head ached as if someone had used it for batting practice. They had no more time, and he knew it.

“Wait, I think I hear something.” Spartacus stepped closer to the door, listening. “Help! Anyone! In here!”

Then he reached for his gun again and fired a few rounds on the top jamb of the door, angled up toward the ceiling.

But no one responded. No one was coming.

In a last attempt, Spartacus got to the floor on his back. He rammed both feet into the bottom half of the door. Once. Twice. And without a word, Nasir got down next to him to do the same.

The wood cracked under the impact of their joined effort, but the door was stronger than Nasir would have thought and his whole body ached more and more after every jarring kicking. His thoughts turned to Agron, to his life outside this shit hole of a building. It made him kick harder. He didn’t want to die. And fuck if he ever wanted to die like this...

“Hasan! Hasan, are you out here? Jesus, where the fuck—”

Both Nasir and Spartacus stopped the second they heard the voice from the other side of the door. For a moment everything was quiet and Nasir began to fear he had just been hallucinating. Then came another noise and the hinges rattled as if something or someone rammed against the door with force on the other side.

“Nasir? Meyer? Anyone in there?”

Nasir got up to his knees. “Agron?” He slammed his palm against the door, hard enough that the impact numbed his arm, the jolt of pain radiating through every bruised rib. “Agron, we’re in here! The fucking door’s jammed, we can’t get out!”

He heard a muffled noise from the other side and then came that blessed, familiar voice again, “I hear you, man. Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out. Just hold on.”

There was the sound of metal hitting metal on the other side of the door. Again and again. Then the sound of something crashing down, hitting the floor with a loud clang. Nasir and Spartacus got to their feet and took a step back.

Wood splintered and the door swept open.

And there was Agron, covered in soot and grit and dust, his plaid shirt tied around the bottom half of his face, his body nearly doubled over, violent coughs shaking his big frame. 

Nasir rushed to the door, but as his gaze shifted behind Agron's shoulder and into the corridor and beyond, he froze. Fire had engulfed the front end of the building and consumed any hope they had of walking out the way they’d come in. Slowly but surely the flames were making their way into the rafters above. The ceiling heaved with dense smoke that cut the space in two.

Spartacus joined them in the doorway and grabbed Agron by the shoulder. “Are you all right? Can you get up?” When Agron nodded, Spartacus glanced at Nasir, too. “It doesn’t look like the front exit is an option out.”

“No way,” Agron agreed in between fits of coughing. He scrambled back up on his feet, one hand braced against the wall another holding on to Nasir. “The roof caved in after the explosion. I came in through the north side, but it’s a fucking inferno out there. I only made it because I took a dip in the river before I ran in.”

“This shit hole is comin’ down,” Tommy shouted behind them, “And we’re all gonna die! I can’t—”

“Shut up. You’re not helping.” Spartacus turned toward Nasir. “Any ideas, Hasan?”

“Can we get to the basement from here?” Nasir asked Agron.

The other man glanced over his shoulder. Nasir could practically see the wheels turning in his head as the man quickly and silently went through their options.

“I guess it could be done,” he said finally. “It’ll get hot as hell out there for a minute, though, but... it could be done.”

“If the floor plan I saw was accurate, there’s a latch down there, Nasir explained, “An old coal shoot. I know it’s not much but it’s—” 

“Our last chance out,” Spartacus filled in and gestured towards the back of the room. “Let’s move, people. O'Neal, you're with me.”

After they cleared the room, the heat soon became unbearable. Staying low only made it marginally better. Nasir covered his mouth with his forearm and took shallow breaths, crawling forward on the floor and dodging pieces of concrete and burning chunks of debris in his path, careful not to lose sight of Agron.

Eerie sounds roared through the corridors and then came the loud, deep rumble of the massive building coming apart above them. The noise only got louder, and Nasir's heart beat faster. They needed to pick up pace or the ceiling collapsing over them might just kill them even before the smoke did.

He crept toward the back of the building, guided by his memory of the floor plan. When they got to the basement door, it was already open, smoke drifting up from the doorway.

As if on cue, the last of the overhead lights flickered and then died completely. Next to Nasir in the darkness Agron switched on a flashlight.

“Let's go, Hasan. This way.”

Nasir grabbed Agron’s arm, stopping him from moving forward as he watched the toxic swirls of smoke illuminated in the beam of light. He second-guessed himself and racked his brain, trying to think of another way out. But there was nowhere else to go. The fire had ravaged the ground floor, and the upper stories were ready to fall. And they had all inhaled so much smoke that in a couple more moments they would all be dead anyway. It was this or nothing.

He ducked down and peered through the door to the basement below. Sections of the ceiling had collapsed, with heaps of fiery debris covering the concrete floor. But his instinct for survival forced him to take that first step down. He had to focus and keep going. For all their sake.

Nasir ran his fingers along the basement wall, feeling for every crack and crevice as he crept forward. And then he felt the rough brick surface change to smooth steel, and he knew he’d found it. Their ticket out of this hell.

“Over here, guys.”

Someone touched his arm, and he turned to see Meyer peer over his shoulder at the hatch in front of them.

“Is this it?” The man dropped to his knees next to him. Nasir nodded while the other man found the latch handle and pulled. 

Nothing happened.

Fuck.

Spartacus grabbed the handle with both hands and pulled again but the door didn’t budge an inch.

“What’s wrong?” Agron’s voice sounded so close to Nasir's ear it would have made him jump—if he’d had any more adrenalin in his system to spare, that is.

“The door must be rusted shut,” Spartacus said.

“Try this.”

Nasir watched as Agron passed Spartacus something that looked an awful lot like a crowbar. Nasir was not going to ask where he had gotten it. Gift horses, mouths and all that jazz.

The three of them took turns trying to wrench the door open. Tommy , although uninjured and perfectly able-bodied, had already checked out and was curled up by the wall hugging his knees, whimpering to himself.

In the dark, Nasir couldn’t tell if they were making any progress or not. And with each driving blow, he felt more drained. Every time the crowbar hit the door, a jolt of pain radiated through his arms and chest. But he gritted his teeth through the pain and fought back even harder with the next try.

But then Spartacus stopped and raised his hand. “Hold it,” he said, “Can you hear that?”

Nasir winced and blinked his stinging eyes, listening. In the dark Agron’s hand found the nape of his neck and squeezed it gently. He held his breath and shut his eyes to focus until he heard a rhythmic clinking from outside. The sound was muffled yet clear. And it was far too steady to be an accident.

“Down here! In the basement!” Spartacus shouted, banging the crowbar sideways against the metal door to make more noise. “This is Commander Meyer, I’m here with my team. Can you hear us?”

There was a moment of silent and then,

“Commander Meyer, Special Agent Jackson here. The fire department is ready to take down this door so we can get our team in, but it looks like we’ll do it just to get you out now. How many are you?”

“Five, me included,” Spartacus answered. “Me and three of my team and one of Dietz’s men. Everyone else inside is dead as far as I can tell. I counted four bodies so far on the way here.”

“Okay. Just step away from the door for a minute if you can. We’re coming in with force.”

The next few moments were filled with deafening noises and flying dust and mortar. And then the basement was suddenly awash with cones of light and more voices when a swarm of agents and rescue personnel finally made their way inside the basement through the new big hole in the wall. And not long after that, Nasir was already sitting outside on the curb next to Agron, a blanket on his shoulders and an oxygen mask pressed in his hand.

“Derek! We need a medic in here!”

“I’m fine,” Agron rasped and then tried to smile, “You’re the one with the bruised ribs, remember?”

But Nasir could see the clenched jaw and the deepening lines between his brows. Could hear the rhythm of his breathing picking up pace. Something was wrong.

“You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke. And you probably have—” Nasir stopped when his eyes traveled to Agron’s thigh. The fire in the background and the multiple car headlights lit the night enough that he could see that the left leg of his jeans was more black than blue. At first he thought it was just soot and mud but when he reached out his hand, he felt the telltale sticky wetness on his fingers. “What happened to your leg?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Fuck it’s nothing.” He felt his way up the man’s thigh until his fingers suddenly hit something sharp protruding from the cut in his jeans. Nasir cursed and jerked his hand away when the sharp edge cut his skin. “Agron, you've got a piece of metal wedged in there.”

“Yeah. Thanks for telling me. I was wondering what that was.”

“Should we pull it out?”

Agron shook his head. “It... it’s really close to an artery. Better leave it for now or it might just do more damage.”

Nasir looked back over his shoulder. “Derek, can we get that fucking ambulance in here at some point this century before my partner bleeds to death!”

“They’re coming!”

“Well make them come fucking faster, will you!”

“I like it when you boss people around.” Agron grabbed Nasir’s arm and squeezed it tight, his voice strained and his face tense with the concerted efforts to block out the pain. “It’s a little sexy, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“In fact, _you’re_ a little sexy, Hasan. With your split lip and singed clothes, barking orders at federal agents...”

Nasir snorted and squeezed Agron’s hand back. “You’re not hitting on me, are you Evans? Because if you are, you literally have the worst timing in the world.”

“Why? Are you seeing someone?” He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. “Not Jackson, though, right?”

“Derek? No, not him,” Nasir answered, laughing. “Come on, that was way back in Quantico, you know that. And not anyone else either—not with these hours. Hell, I haven't even had a good night out in god knows when.”

“Then what’s the problem with my timing?”

Nasir tried to keep laughing it off, but even in the dim light he could clearly see Agron’s eyes, and it looked dangerously like the man was being serious. And as their stare held, Nasir felt his smile slowly fading away.

“Agron, I—”

The someone grabbed his shoulder. Hard.

“Sir, you need to move now. You’re in the way.” The woman in EMT gear pushed him firmly aside, hiding half of Agron’s body from him behind the bulk of her jacket and the two bags worth of medical equipment. She was quickly joined on the ground by a man in identical gear.

“You’ll come and see me in the ER, yeah?” Agron quipped over the EMT’s shoulder, “Make sure they won’t saw off the wrong leg?”

Feeling numb, Nasir nodded and scrambled back up on his feet, stepping away to give them space to work. Derek was there beside him, but Nasir barely noticed his appearance until he felt the hand over his own, releasing the crowbar from his death grip.

“Let’s go. There’s an ambulance waiting with your name on it.”

“I don’t need—”

“Of course you don’t. You never do. But as of this moment you’re under my command—and my command means my rules. Come on. Your big, bad Navy SEAL's not gonna die from a simple flesh wound, I promise.”

“Delta Force.”

“Sorry?”

Nasir shook his head with a tired smile. “Nothing.”

So Derek led him away and to one of the ambulances waiting at the edge of the car park. The EMT who greeted him was young and enthusiastic and Nasir was too tired to argue, so he let the woman do her job in peace. She checked his vitals and gave him some extra oxygen and a thermal blanket over his shoulders. All the while Derek kept leaning on the side of the ambulance, staring at him with an unreadable expression until Nasir had finally had enough.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be following this up with the fire team and the explosive unit instead of standing around here waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I probably should.” He never moved, though.

They watched on as Agron was transferred into an ambulance on the other side of the parking lot. The doors slammed closed after him, the driver jumped into the front seat and soon the car took off for the road, lights flashing.

“You called him, didn’t you? That’s how he knew I was in there.” 

“I informed him of the situation taking place with his team, yes,” Derek said evenly.

Nasir extended his arm without being prompted and then winced when the EMT started treating the burns on his hands. Like always, he had refused the heavy-duty pain blockers and it hurt like hell, but he could deal. Nasir breathed in a nice dose of oxygen and turned his attention back to his ex who was still leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed over his Kevlar covered chest.

“Agron wasn’t on this case, Derek. He had no authority to be inside that building. You must’ve informed him about that, too.”

“I did.”

“Then why the fuck even call him? You couldn’t even have had any proper intel back then.” 

The other man stayed silent for a long moment, watching the lights of Agron’s ambulance disappear into the distance.

“Derek...?”

“It’s simple, really, if you think about it,” he said. “I needed to get you out of there. He was the only one crazy enough to actually make that happen.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“Well that’s one word for it.”

Nasir gave a tired laugh. “And what’s the other?”

His ex gave him a long look. “The guy just literally ran into a burning building for you, Nas. You really don’t need me to spell it out for you, do you?”


	6. Chapter 6

“I think I’ll have that tea now. Would you want some?” Nasir asked as he stepped out of the bedroom, towel drying his hair.

Agron sighed, looking out the ceiling length windows that ran the whole western wall of the apartment, giving out into the city below. He could see the rolling hills in the distance, the glimmering water in the west. It was a million dollar view—at least metaphorically if not literally.

“Sure. Tea sounds nice.”

Nasir chuckled softly and Agron heard him pad barefoot across the floor to the kitchen to fill the kettle with water to heat. “You always say that, but we both know you really want something else.”

“You have no idea,” Agron muttered under his breath, staring out at the sky that was turning a hazy orange over the setting sun. Then, sighing, he pushed himself off the window frame, grabbed his crutch and limped across the floor to the navy blue sectional in the middle of the room.

“Here you go, Cowboy. Ginger and lemon, no sugar, just the way you like it,” Nasir said with an amused lilt as he walked closer holding out Agron’s mug in front of him. “Beer can wait until your painkillers wear off. Doctor’s orders.”

“Thanks,” he managed to get out and then took the mug from him as Nasir plopped down next to him on the couch.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Agron sipped the tea. It tasted just as bad as it always did. Why Nasir insisted on drinking this stuff voluntarily he’d never know.

“You sure? Is it the leg? The nurse said—”

“It’s not the leg.”

“Okay.”

Sighing, Agron set the nearly untouched tea mug on the coffee table and turned to face Nasir. Slowly. Grudgingly. Summoning up the courage. They locked eyes, and then for a long minute Agron just looked at him, and something shifted in his chest, something massive that hadn't moved in years.

“Look, I just... I need to say I’m sorry. About the other day, before... all this. I know I came off as a jerk, but you gotta believe me, I never—”

“It’s okay.” Nasir cut him off by touching his arm. “Hell, to begin with, you saved my life out there. So as far as apologies goes, that’s already pretty much in the top three—right under foot massage and season tickets to the Patriots.”

Agron forced himself to smile. Whatever it was that had shifted in his chest had moved to his throat. He tried to swallow it back down, but it was lodged in there, making it harder to breathe.

“And second... I get it. I’m your partner—we’re a team.” Nasir lifted his hand on Agron’s shoulder, squeezing a little to make his point. “That’s it, right? That’s why you’re so worked up over me getting hurt? Because you’re supposed to watch my back like I watch yours. Because we’re supposed to be on the field together.”

“Yeah, together,” Agron finally stammered out, loving the warm touch on his arm a little too much. He cleared his throat. “I mean... on the job.”

God, he couldn’t have been a bigger coward if he tried.

“You and me against the world.” Nasir peered at him intently for a minute and then slowly drew back his hand, wrapping all of his ten fingers back around the tea mug. “Just... there’s such a thing as overdoing it, you know? I _can_ take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“That’s not to say help isn’t appreciated, though,” he added with a smile—damn that smile, Agron would go to hell and back for that smile, “But just hold the damn lectures from now on, okay?”

“No lectures. Got it.”

“Good.” Nasir sipped his tea and then crossed his legs under him and grabbed the remote. “Now... I wonder if they’re showing the highlights of yesterday’s game anywhere. I heard the last fifteen minutes were golden.”

“Tea and football?” Agron made a face but leaned over to take back his mug from the table before getting comfortable in the crook of the sofa. “You’re a weird one, Hasan.”

“Just another reason to love me, Evans.”

Silence fell but it was soon filled by the blare of a rock song from a Toyota commercial. Nasir quickly adjusted the volume and started flipping through the channels.

Agron stole a glance at him over the rim of his mug. And then in a sudden fit of courage—or maybe madness—he heard himself say, “You know I do, right?”

“Do what?” Nasir asked absentmindedly as he finally settled on ESPN and threw away the remote.

“Love you.”

Agron watched Nasir swallow down a mouthful of tea, eyes staying on the 60-inch TV screen mounted on the wall.

“Yeah, sure, of course you do,” he finally said after a moment of silence, plastering on a smile, “We’re friends. Partners. I'm like a brot—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Nasir.” Agron put away his untouched tea mug and grabbed Nasir’s arm. “I have a brother, and trust me, this...” he waved his hand between them, “What I feel... it’s not _that_. Hell no. Never was.”

“No?”

Agron snorted. “No.”

“But you’ve never—”

“I know, I know.” Agron blew out a breath and let go of Nasir’s arm, scooting back on the couch as best as he could with his bad leg to create some space between them. “I didn’t want to fuck it up—fuck us up. I didn’t want to lose you over this. I mean, nothing worse than finding out that your best friend's been pining after you all this time, am I right?” He gave a short laugh, then buried his face in his hands with a groan.

In the background the Giants scored a touchdown.

“I didn’t want things to get awkward—” He stopped and ran a hand over his face, then over his scalp, all the way down to his neck. “Well, it’s awkward now, isn’t it? Fuck.”

“Agron...”

“See? Awkward. This is why I never said anything.”

“Agron...”

“No. Please, don’t say it. You don’t have to say it. It’s okay, man. I get it—I really do.”

“Do you?”

“Yes—”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Because, the thing is, I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

But Agron refused to listen. He couldn't listen. Because he simply couldn't bear hearing whatever version of “I love you like a brother” Nasir was now about to get into. Which was such an asshole way to even think about things; it wasn't like Nasir owed him anything more.

Coward, that's what he was. Hell, if the last few days had taught him anything, it was that. Agron Andrew Evans, U.S. Army Sergeant First Class—Delta Force, badass by trade—was one big, pathetic coward of a man. He could face a town run by mercenaries, no problem; but a little bit of rejection was too much to handle.

“Look at me.”

Agron shook his head.

“Come on, you big baby. Look at me.”

So, finally—grudgingly—Agron did as he was told.

Whatever it was he had been expecting, that expression on Nasir's face definitely wasn't it.

“Wow. We done fucked up good, didn't we, Evans?”

“Uh... What?”

“God, I can't believe we wasted all this time and never--” Nasir's voice faded away and he shook his head. “I just didn't think you ever... If I'd only...” He rubbed his face and then shook his head a little more. “Fuck, I should have seen it. I should have said something earlier.”

“Should've said something... about what?”

Bracing a hand against the sofa cushion next to Agron's head, Nasir leaned in as his other hand slid on Agron's shoulder. “About this.”

And maybe it was the painkillers slowing down his brain, but it honestly took until Nasir's gaze dropped from Agron's eyes to his lips that Agron finally understood.

“Uh... so you..?”

“Yes, Agron. Me too. Guess we're as blind as each other.”  
  
Agron's reply got stuck in his throat, and the whimper that made it past his lips was soon muffled when Nasir's mouth covered his. The kiss was hesitant at first, unsure and tentative. More a question than a statement. Agron closed his eyes, hands framing Nasir's face to keep him there, terrified that this moment wasn’t real, that this was just one of those thousands of dreams about his partner, destined to disappear as soon as he opened his eyes.

And then he kissed Nasir again because he could; longer, slower, deeper this time. And when he finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, and risked opening his eyes, Nasir was still there, just a few inches away, as solid and real as he'd ever been.

The TV was still making noises in the background.

“I think your team’s winning.”

“Good for them,” Nasir said, never breaking eye contact. There was a beginning of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and Agron could feel it catching.

“So...?”

“So.”

“So what do we do now?”

Nasir shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I think my tea's gone cold, so I'm open to new ideas.”

“I could always heat up some more water for you.”

“You could,” Nasir agreed.

“Or maybe...” Agron's hand came up, cupping Nasir's cheek, fingers brushing underneath his eye, and Nasir leaned into his touch, kissed his palm.

And this right here, this was heaven as far as Agron was concerned. It just wouldn't get any better than this. He had half a mind to pinch himself just to make sure once and for all he wasn't dreaming. But then none of his fantasies had ever felt anywhere near as good as this.

“Maybe we could...”

“Yeah?”

“Make up for lost time?” Agron finally managed to get out.

“We've lost a lot of time, Evans.”

“I know.” He ran his thumb along Nasir's lower lip, trying to memorize the way he looked in that moment, like this. Punch-drunk and happy. “I guess we have some catching up to do.”

Nasir laughed. And sweet Jesus that throaty laugh went straight to his groin. It was damn right scary how easily a man could get addicted to a sound like that.

“This might take a while, Cowboy. I hope you haven't made plans for later.”

“Oh, I'm definitely ready to stay the night. Work _all_ through the night if necessary. Whatever it takes.”

Nasir smirked at him and leaned in closer. “Your country thanks you for your sacrifice, Sergeant.”

“Well, I'm happy to serve.”

Giddy. That's what it was. Agron was feeling honest-to-god giddy for the first time since... forever. Maybe it was the painkillers. Maybe it was the tea. Maybe...

He winked. _“Always_ happy to serve. If you know what I mean.”

Sighing, Nasir leaned against him, forehead to forehead, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “God, I'd forgotten how bad you are at this,” he murmured, “Tell me, how did you ever actually hook up with anyone with a game this weak? I'd really like to know.”

Or maybe it was the endorphin rush from their impromptu visit to second base and the semi Agron was close to sporting. In any case, he felt like he was sixteen again. He couldn't stop smiling. Didn't want to stop.

“Come on, Hasan. You've seen me naked.”

Nasir raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So... asked and answered. That's all the game I need.”

This time, Nasir's forehead hit Agron's shoulder and his audible groan pushed hot air against his neck, only making Agron grin wider. “You and your ego, Evans... Unbearable.”

“You mean, I'm so damn amazing that you simply can't _bear_ to—”

“No, that's not what I meant.” Nasir lifted his head again and then lifted his hand, pressing two fingers over Agron's mouth. “If I kiss you again, will you shut up? No more jokes?”

Their stare held and Agron nodded solemnly, wrapping his arms around Nasir's waist in preparation, fingers teasing the hem of his shirt.

“Good. Now... any last words? And think carefully. You better not fuck this up, Evans, I'm warning you.”

“Well, there is this one thing...” Agron made an effort to rearrange his expression appropriately and scale down the grinning. “If I may be serious for a second.”

Nasir squinted his eyes at him at first but then gradually his face softened, and he gave a hesitant smile. “Okay, go on.”

“Since it looks like I'm not actually dreaming after all, and this is really happening,” Agron started and cleared his throat, “I just wanted to ask...”

Nasir's hand came back up to cradle Agron's jaw, thumb brushing against his cheek. “Yes...?”

“Can I be the one to tell Jackson?”

That night, Agron learned a few very important lessons.

Firstly, he learned that there was a fine line between enough jokes and one too many jokes and that there was a price to pay when the line got crossed. But he also learned that pissing off his partner was not necessarily always such a bad thing, especially since that anger was now able to find some new and fairly... creative outlets.

And, lastly, he learned that when it was 3 a.m. and you were lying in bed awake because your brain just wouldn't shut off, it could actually help when...

“Still awake, huh?”

“What else is new?”

“And here I thought I had actually succeeded in wearing you out for once.”

Agron chuckled and Nasir rolled closer, propped himself up on his elbow. The silver glow of the moonlight outside filtered through the blinds, painting stripes on the walls. The tiny bit of light made the edges of the furniture blur but Nasir was close enough for Agron to see the frown lines on his face.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, it's just the usual. You know how I am.”

“Yes, I know how you are.” Nasir leaned in and kissed Agron's shoulder. “Anything I can do?”

“Don't worry about it, just go back to sleep. I'll switch off eventually—I always do.”

Nasir stayed watching him silently for a moment, chin digging in Agron's shoulder, and then he kissed Agron one more time and went to roll back to his side.

“Uh, Nasir...?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you... stay here for a bit, though?”

The mattress dipped and Nasir rolled back against him, wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed. “You do realize this is like sleeping next to a giant, human-size radiator in the middle of summer, right?”

“You don't have to—”

“Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing.” Nasir scooted closer and finally somewhat settled in place in the crook Agron's arm. “Lucky for you I happen to have a thing for man-size radiators.”

Agron pulled him closer, kissed the top of his head. Sighed. “Lucky for me.”

“Well g'night then.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams.”

“Got my sweet dream right here, big guy,” Nasir replied on a yawn, pinching Agron's side.

“Just go to sleep, Hasan.”

“Somehow I have the feeling you're not appreciating my late night attempts at humor, Evans.”

Agron had to bite the side of his mouth in earnest as he wrapped both his arms around the other man to keep him in place. “Go to sleep.”

“Hey, if you're gonna keep ordering me around like that, we have to at least agree on a safe word first.”

“It's three a.m.”

“ _That's_ your safe word? Come on, man. A little more creativity wouldn't hurt.”

“Nasir, just—”

“Mine's 'giraffe', by the way.”

“Of course it is.” And it might have been the middle of July but Agron held on a little tighter regardless, one hand tangled in Nasir's hair, the other splayed against his back. He had never been much of a natural cuddler and there was a good chance he'd wake up next morning with a dead arm, choking on a gallon of hair, and yet somehow these were all details he really couldn't give a flying fuck about right now. “Giraffe. I'll try and remember.”

“Don't worry, I'll remind you again once the cuffs come out.”

“Thanks.” Agron started yawning then spit out a mouthful of hair. “Wait, wh—”

“I'm kidding. Now follow your own advice and get some sleep. It's three a.m.”

“But—”

“Shh... sleep.”


End file.
